Leave Me Not Grey. ~ Poem Collection By K.S Blackmore

Dealing with grieve – losing my mum, seems to have turned me into a bit of a “poet”. Most are of the theme nature. Scribbling as i call it {referring to the state of my paper!}, gives my brain something different to think about. I now seem to be seeing the world from a different angle. These “poems” i enjoy composing, & seems a shame if they just stay in my notepads……..

This first one is from the heart….. X

I Am Breath, Still.

Dearest kinfolk, I am breath. Still
A forgotten note, whitewashed in zinc.
Calendars turn, no thoughts. Stock-still.
Perhaps ones thinking, while others think.
A spider now, thus I feel.
A loss, in a night-dream. No leave.
Existing! On-stage, laundry pegged and wondering. Yet lips a seal.
In a forest sinking amid wild garlic, joined in grieve.
Frozen, numb. Eyes stare, emptied of screen-wash.
Submerged. To often the heart a squash.
My folk left stage. Yet I am breath, still

To nature with a smile,
In The Lea.

The world is looking really well.
In the lea, bumblebees and butterflies
A flutter. As paint of green, fresh, thrown! Comes a yell,
Action!! Green lights! Creatures fuel! Fresh again, tries.
For another summer with another year to flourish.
Straw hats? Rain coats? Best now to nourish!

But A red light.....

That Little Esprit.

i take a saunter in this moon of May,
Open wide ears! For two notes conducted,
Composes my summer….. But thus far dismay,
i foot-slogged…. to bleakness! The cuckoo abducted!
What of a kingdom, silenced of the king?!
To perceive my summer days adhere.
A glum, glum land. Ourselves we wring.
But blue not i! For tomorrow, next week too, me and my ear
Will come back still, for that little esprit
Will not steer clear of me!


Panic over. Take five……

Beside The River.


Beside the river. Close by a worn weir
Still. If only for five!
Swans. A broad, in no hurry, peer!
The rivers pace of life, a thrive,
Enchanting one and all. As always nature volunteers
The remedy. Not on ones own, basking
Too, wild creatures full of cheers!
Adams ale. Daily bread. All, asking!

Staying riverside with a promise ……

Leave Me Not Gray


When i run, to the river i head
With the drifting birds, i too return.
The river endlessly passing, sped
With a ton of innermost musings, free`d. As discern,
Oneself weathered back out, to where after?
Disembark! To immerse, wet toes or dry earth stay?!
Up river a thoroughfare of green chased after,
With a promise to leave me not gray



“Poems” fuelled by lots of cups of tea & a assortment of dark chocolate {what i call brain food!}. Composed with the help of vitamin D.

Gumboots Don. ~ Poem Collection By K.S Blackmore

Some more scribbling! Putting a smile on my face. Loving the place scribbling lets me escape to. 🙂


Wakey Wakey.

Mum nature`s wakey – wakey nudges a rapture.
With a grace, for today we have a woken.
Now up! No excuse this day to capture
For tomorrow maybe a heart-broken.
Only this day is given, and not waiting
No need a first coffee, the sun abuzz
Make hasten! The days already deflating!
So take hold the whole day, `coz
A tonic missed if snoozing outdoes!



Gumboots Don.

Dawning beckoning as woods awake
My gumboots don, keen to yomp. Nay naturalist still espy
The roe deer, hide and seek to laik
Trees galore with trees of short, trees of high,
Trees of age and trees of youth.
Those birdie folks country estate!
And betokening all is sooth.
With footnotes aplenty in black treacle, great!
Carrying`s-on courtesy of that woodland jester.
And booming the soundtrack, acknowledged Mr Black-Bird.
As up high certain a bird, his breakfast prey a fester.
And still the days not yet curd!



Bleak Days, Past.

Whispers of bleak days past,
Murmurs a stirring, natures a nudge.
Ensnared no-more. Released again at last
Warming up benumbed souls from the sludge.
Air fresh, filled a song or two subdued,
To dusting`s of hues, uplifting the mood.



Herald Of Spring.

Herald of spring is the morns epigraph.
Breathing once more, the great sallow is a go.
Too, the hearken of chiff – chaff. So on behalf
A shout of spring is so.



A Gentleman Of Age.

In a farmers field he stands
A gentleman of age.
At peace with life, he understands.
A chilled winter break off stage
Too cleansed, thanks too showers of April.
Eager now for this new year
The campsite vacant, queuing fauna squabble.
As I long, his secrets locked, to overhear.
In awl I stand, admiration full. Surely outlived?


A Touch Of Charm. – Poem Collection By K.S Blackmore

I have started scribbling {poetry?}, with a realize, it is my way of airing my thoughts & feelings. Clearing out my mind and after I am done, being in a better place! 🙂

Escape away….. –


 A Touch Of Charm.

Along the brook here-upon,
Snow! Proper winter awoke.
Feathered folk eager for it gone!
A touch of charm for us folk.


Idle, they chill.

Bemused the sheep. A flock
Idle, they chill. Braced effectively
As the snow, flakes came. The smock
now sized perfectly


A Blanket Drapes The Landscape.

The yuletide card to paint,
A blanket drapes the landscape.
Clouds above lowering and laden. So quaint!
More snow! A battlefield, still no escape.
Mammals and man too, rattled.
Mammals, tiny and mighty, survival. Fearful.
For man he`s too battled,
The elements. Hands helpful



The Chest Of Trees, Among.

Sheltered, from the blizzard.
As winter launches, down a helter- skelter!
A chest of trees, among. No fool, wayward!
So tall! Yet, a simple shelter
From that mother nature!